


Lost In The End

by forcryingoutbat



Category: Bat Out Of Hell: The Musical - Steinman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 18:55:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20475917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forcryingoutbat/pseuds/forcryingoutbat
Summary: A small piece I've written set way before the events of the show. Inspired by bits and pieces from the show about how The Lost became frozen, and how Obsidian became separate from the main land.





	Lost In The End

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first thing I've written in about 6 years. I felt somewhat inspired and this is what happened. I'm happy with it, but it's kind of a rough work.

Everything felt so still, but if when he looked close enough, he could see the small fractures and cracks starting to make their way up the walls of the nearest building. When he was young, he always felt the towering skyscrapers, so high above his head they almost blotted out the sun, were stifling. Who wanted to live their lives so far away from the pulsing pavement below, trapped in the monotony of their old age?

The tremors had been going on for hours now, they started small. So small hardly anyone even noticed at first. But they didn’t stop. Occasionally, like now, there would be a pause, like the planet itself was holding it’s breathe. But then they’d start again, just a little stronger and angrier than before, building and building, but to what? When would they end? Would they?

Strat stood up. He’d been hiding here too long, watching the world fall apart around him. Time felt endless right now, but there was a very real possibility that there might not be a tomorrow, at least not for him. Zahara had told him to lay low for a little while, let the dust settle, and maybe, just maybe, the police wouldn’t kill him when if they finally managed to catch up to him. Perhaps she had a point, Strat conceded, but right now there was as much chance of being taken out by a brick falling from one of the towering building above as there where by any pig, and wouldn’t that be a tragically dull end.

The city was covered in them by now. Sprawling, ugly skyscrapers, lighting up the night sky, hiding both the stars above and the people below, both yearning to be seen. Another tremor, more violent than those that came before, knocking him off his feet, and bring more of more of the neon lights crashing down around him. He could hear screams now, coming from above. Hardly anyone walked the streets of Obsidian at night, only those who had no choice, nowhere else to go. His vision was starting to get hazy. He forced himself to stand. He couldn’t stay here, though it would be anyone’s guess what would kill him first, they’d never know what to write on his grave.

He stumbled onwards. Perhaps Zahara was right, and he should have just stayed where he was, but it was far too late for that now. He could feel himself getting dizzier, until he couldn’t go on any further. He couldn’t think straight anymore, and he felt his grip on consciousness slowly slip away. Poisoned by noxious fumes from the neon signs. He supposed there was a certain poetic irony there, killed by the very buildings they’d spent the last two year protesting against. They’d lost though, in the end. He’d lived his life here, before the towers had stretched this far out. Now he just felt lost.


End file.
